Play It Cool
by metacognitive
Summary: Girls come 'round for Steve, too, sometimes. Period typical language and attitudes. (I own nothing.)


she'll only come out at night  
the lean and hungry type  
nothing is new, i've seen her here before  
watching and waiting  
ooh, she's sitting with you  
but her eyes are on the door  
so many have paid to see  
what you think you're getting for free

Hall & Oates, "Maneater"

* * *

July, 1966.

* * *

Steve whistles when he sees it.

_That's a '64 Pontiac_, he says. It's a beautiful car. Deep purple. Waxed and shining in the sunlight. The heat of July is heavy already, not even noon yet, and sweat sticks to him. Soda's ringing up some Socy girls up front. The driver of this car's a wisp of a girl, looks about his age, with dark hair and skin and eyes. She eyes him up.

_Y'all gonna serve me here?_ she asks. She cocks a hip where she's standing at the driver's open door. Her jean skirt is tiny, and her white blouse nearly see-through. Steve looks her up and down; Evie would smack him if she caught him at it. The girl continues, _Or do y'all not like colored folks 'round these parts, neither?_

Steve blinks. _Who's calling you that_? She looks like one of them girls who go to Our Lady, who speak Spanish and still try to get the Shepards to join them, even though Maria Shepard chases a different kind of wine ever since she married that second husband of hers. That's not any of Steve's business, of course, but that don't mean he don't know it.

She cracks her gum. Her teeth flash, white and straight. _Had some geezer tell me not to drink from a blasted water fountain. _

_Sheesh_, Steve says, and leans back. Puts his hands in his pockets, maybe flexes a little. She watches him, a little less hostile now than a few minutes before. _Listen, if you can pay for it, we'll fix it. What's the problem?_

_The brakes are shot_, she says, immediately.

_Just need new brake pads?_

_I think so. Know how long that'll take?_

_If we got the parts, maybe an hour_, Steve tells her. _I'm not sure we got your model in, though._

_It's a '64, like you said._

_Not many folks drive Pontiac's 'round here_, Steve says, _but I can take a look for you._

She nods, and he moves back into the garage to see if they got the right parts. Most folks on this side of town are driving older models, sturdier ones, not the glitzy glammed up rides that the Socs and Buck Merrill prefer. Dallas has been trying to buy the T-bird off Buck for months now, and the bartender won't budge. Figures, Steve thinks. Dallas wrecked his last car—a brand new Shelby Cobra, so pretty Steve could cry—right after the Curtis news hit. Don't nobody trust him with a model as nice as Buck's got at this point.

The DX ain't got the parts, though, not that Steve was expecting different. There are other places in town who probably have them on hand, but Steve's not about to send business elsewhere. He comes back out, finds her still chewing her gum and watching one of the other mechanics work on a Buick.

_'S a Deluxe_, he tells her, and she jumps a little before turning back to him.

_Yeah? Ain't seen one before_, she says. Her twang is different.

_You from around here?_

She squints at him. _Just moved. 'Bout two weeks. _

Steve nods. _Listen_, he says. _We don't got the parts, but we can order 'em for you._

_Alright_, she says, after a moment. _You know how long it'll take for y'all to get them?_

_Coupla days_, he says. _It's Friday, so Monday at the earliest we can get it all fixed up for you. Might take longer if the wholesaler don't have the right parts, though._

She purses her lips. _How much is this gonna cost me?_

_Depends_, Steve says. He pulls a cleanish rag from his pocket, pats his face with it. _Might need to look at all the axles. Replacements usually run around fifty, sixty bucks._

Her eyebrows go way up. _Is it 'cause it's a Pontiac? _

_Nah_, Steve says. _That's right about what it costs. Maybe seventy, for the parts._

She rubs at her mouth. Real pretty mouth, Steve thinks, and stays watching her for a long moment. Finally she says, _Do I gotta leave it here with you? _

_What kinda noises it making?_ Steve asks her.

_It's grindin'._

He whistles, long and low_. You're gonna wanna leave it here. Might break the discs if you keep driving with your brakes out._

She says, _I don't know halfa what you said, but alright_. She leans into the car again, pulls out a leather purse she slings over a shoulder. _Do I gotta pay for the parts now?_

_When you pick up the car._

_So I should come in Monday?_

_We can call,_ Steve says. Sometimes girls will come around, waiting on their cars to be done or just because they got nothing better to do, and it usually entertains Soda for a while. It can get boring, though, all the jokes and flirting and Steve stuck in the back looking over a car that don't need fixing when he could be inside the DX, where it's at least a couple degrees cooler than the summer heat.

_Alright_, she says again. _Where do I write…?_

_I can meet you up front_, Steve says to her. _You got a spare set of keys?_

_Not on me_, she says, but hands over a car key anyway, takes a minute to separate it from what must be her housekey. He tells her he'll be up in a minute and she shrugs, turns to make her way back to the inside of the DX. The car practically hums beneath him, and he wonders how she even got a car like this. She's gotta be at least sixteen, he figures, but she looks real young, not wearing makeup besides a red lipstick darker than the stuff Evie likes.

When he walks into the store he finds her loitering around some of the snacks, and nods at Soda.

_You get her info?_ he asks him, and Soda shakes his head.

_Nah, she said she was waiting on you. _

Steve grabs for the right paperwork, then walks up to her. She turns her head to look at him, and he finally notices how _tiny_ she is, long hair and long legs doing nothing to make up for the fact that she's shorter than even Ponyboy, who's waiting on a growth spurt or two. His birthday's soon, Steve remembers, and wonders what surprise Soda's going to try and cook up for him.

_Can I get a name?_ he asks her.

_Lisa Bernal_, she says, and then spells it for him. Steve asks for a phone number to call and she says, _Shoot, hold on_, and digs through her bag for a slip of paper. She hands it over to him, shrugging and looking a bit embarrassed. _I haven't memorized it yet. _

_No problem_, Steve says, copying it down and then double checking it. _You said you just moved here? _

From the corner of his eye, he can see Sodapop watching them. She says, _Yeah, been here since a little after the Fourth. _

He nods. _We'll give you a call on Monday_, he tells her, _once we've got the parts it shouldn't take too long to fix 'er up._

_Solid_, she says, lifting a shoulder, _thanks_. She walks out the door soon after, nodding a goodbye to Soda. They watch her hesitate for a moment at the bus stop, then square her shoulders and turn to walk to wherever it is she's going. Soda turns to him, eyebrows up like Two-Bit's when he's chasing after a skirt.

_She's cute_, Soda says.

_You should see her car_, Steve says. _Pontiac. She's a beauty_.

Soda hops up, says, _Watch the counter for me, yeah?_ and doesn't bother to wait for Steve to agree before heading out back to check out her ride. He shrugs, gets settled; not like there's much else to do at four on a Friday, he figures.

* * *

Evie's got her hair teased up like usual when he goes to pick her up that Saturday, wearing a tight black skirt and matching top. Her collarbone's showing, and she kisses him with tongue as soon as she's in the car, like she doesn't care if it musses her lipstick or not.

_Miss me, huh?_

_Shut it_, she says, rolling her eyes, but smiles at him anyway. Her makeup's only a little bit smudged, and he fixes it for her. Afterwards, he rests a hand on her knee, and they cruise down to the Strip for dinner and a show. She updates him on something her sister's gotten up to, fifteen and already running about with one of Shepard's gang.

_She finally get over Soda?_

Evie laughs, says, _Lord! It's about time, ain't it? It's been two years at least. Poor Susie._

_I think she'll survive_, Steve says. _Bet she don't want your dad finding out about Ronnie._

_He's dumber than Shepard's kid brother_, Evie complains, hand resting over Steve's, _I think she's just tryna get someone's attention._

_You gonna give it to her?_

_I got more important things to do_, she says, squeezing his wrist, and they grin at each other.

After dinner they head over to catch _How to Steal a Million_, which Evie ends up loving. Something about the Hepburn broad being a class act.

_Her hair looks real nice like that_, Evie's telling them, _you think I should get a haircut? Maybe a fringe?_

_Your hair looks fine_, Steve tells her.

_But would bangs look alright?_ she asks. She's glancing at her reflection in one of the windows of the building next to the theater. Beyond her, buying tickets, Steve sees a somewhat familiar figure. _I need a trim anyway._

He touches her lower back, gentle-like, like he only ever is with her. _You'll look great either way._

Finally she turns to him, presses the back of her hand to his chest like she's going to shove him away. She's smiling. _You're a sweet-talker, you know that?_

_Only for you, baby_, he says to her, and she kisses him and laughs.

_You ready to go?_

_Yeah_, he says, opening the door to his car for her. He glances behind him before climbing into the driver's seat. Lisa Bernal, standing next to a young-looking girl a little taller than her and chatting with the ticket seller, doesn't see him.

On Sunday, when Evie stops by the DX to say hi, he compliments her new haircut—fringe included—and gets another French kiss for noticing.

* * *

_Nice to see you again_, Soda says when the Bernal girl walks in on Monday around noon. The two of them are screwing around inside, since Steve's usually not the only mechanic in during the week. Their boss much prefers him in on weekends, but it's summer and one of the regular guys had to quit back in May, so Steve's been working full-time since June. He's glad to have the extra money.

She's in a pair of navy hot pants and a white halter-top, this time, long hair let loose again. Steve can see a few strands sticking to her neck, damp with sweat. She smiles, polite but uninterested, at Soda and then quirks an eyebrow up at Steve. _Any news on my ride?_

_It's a mean machine_, Soda offers, and she smiles a bit more genuinely this time.

_Thanks_, she tells him, and turns to Steve expectantly.

_Said we'd call you_, he says, shrugging, not quite apologetic. _Someone's gonna pick up the parts later today. Depends on what the boss says._

She tilts her head. _But it'll be done by the time y'all close?_

Soda takes over for him; he's always been best at tricking customers into hearing what they want even if it ain't quite what he's saying. _If the boss sends 'em out soon, it should be done within the hour._

She says, _Your buddy said the same thing on Friday_, and Soda winces.

He tries for contrite next. _Sorry, miss. We gotta lotta cars that came in last week and a coupla them are big projects. _

She smiles again. Not hostile, not quite amused. Maybe playful, if Steve didn't know better. _Don't it make more sense to get the easy ones done first?_

_Sure_, Soda says, leaning in like he's got a secret to share. Steve barely keeps himself from rolling his eyes, turns his head a bit so they can't see him grin. _But the ones that take a little longer—slow and steady, ya dig?—those are a lot more fun._

_You're funny_, she says, clearly trying not to laugh, and nods her head at Steve. _So tomorrow, then?_

_Tomorrow for sure_, Soda answers for him. _Sorry for the inconvenience. You wanna Coke? Free, on me._

_That don't sound like a good habit in this business_, she says, just as Steve goes, _Ain't like we called her in by mistake, Soda_, and she blinks. For a second Steve thinks she'll get mad, think he's rude—and he is rude, he'll admit it, but he does okay by customers nine days outta ten, and then she says, _Soda?_ like she's misheard.

_You ain't checked out my nametag, huh?_ Soda says, grinning, _Y'ain't the first_. He offers his hand. _Sodapop Curtis. _

Her eyebrow goes up. Steve wonders if she has to think about it. _That so?_

_Yes indeed_, Soda says, laying it on thick. _You're Lisa, right? Mighta been eavesdropping when Steve here was taking care of you last week. _

She hums. _You get a lotta business playin' nice with girls 'round here, don't you?_ she asks, sounding amused. _Any of their steadies come chasin' after you?_

Soda's smile turns a little wicked. _I'm a sure thing in a fight._

_Whadaya know_, she says, cocking a hip. _So 'm I_. She jerks her head at Steve. _How 'bout it, Steve? You any good in a rumble?_

_Shoot_, Steve says, leaning on the counter next to her, _Soda and me are some of the best fighters on the East side._

_Not the West side?_

Steve snorts. _They're a buncha pansies._

She looks curious. _That a known fact?_

_You just moved to town, right?_ Soda says. _The thing is them West side kids think they can do anything they want, on account of they got the money to back it up. They don't like being reminded it ain't true, especially not when they're on our side of town. We give 'em hell when we need to._

She leans in on the counter and props her head up with a closed fist. _Sounds like some machista bull to me_, she says. _They come 'round here often, then?_

_Their girls do_, Steve shrugs. _Soda here's a sweet-talker._

_Evie says the same about you_, Soda says, grinning, and Lisa laughs.

_That your girl?_ she asks. _I think I saw you out with someone over the weekend. She's real pretty._

Steve rubs the back of his neck, embarrassed suddenly. _Yeah, dinner and a show._

_Sure_, she says, breezy. _My man ain't too fond of movies, but it's alright._

_He live out here?_ Soda asks her, and she shakes her head.

_Nah_, she says, _he's back in Texas. Might come up soon though._

_Tuff_, Soda says. _Long as he don't chase me down for flirting with his girl_, and winks at her.

She laughs. _Sure, honey_, she says, and straightens up. _I'll wait for one of y'all to call me tomorrow before comin' over then. It's too hot to be walkin' around._

_Hot as Texas?_ Soda asks.

_Nah_, she says again, and then, smiling, _but that don't mean you wanna get caught up in it, neither._

* * *

Steve gives her a call the next morning, an hour after the DX opens. The phone is answered by a high voice, girlish and young. It yells, _Lisa!_, and then, _Hold on just a second_, and then Lisa's voice comes tinny over the receiver.

_Is this about my car?_

_Straight to the point, huh?_ Steve says, like he's making a social call, and hears a huff of air like it were right next to him and not over the phone. _Yeah, it's about the car._

_This Soda or Steve?_ she asks.

_Steve. Do it make a difference?_

_Wasn't sure if he's a sweet talker over the phone_, she tells him. _When can I pick the car up?_

_Right now, if you want_, he says. _Anytime today._

_Right on_, she says, _be there soon_.

She shows up within the hour, trailed by the same girl he saw her with over the weekend. The girl's in capri pants and a blouse, Lisa in a pale yellow shift dress like she's got somewhere to be.

Soda's in the stockroom, and Steve says, before he can really stop himself, _Gotta date today?_

Lisa rolls her eyes, the girl behind her looking a bit confused and amused all at once, no doubt wondering if the two of them are friendly. _I have an interview_, she tells him, _that diner on 15th and Quaker. _

_They're hiring?_

_Mhm_, she says, glancing at the girl when she moves towards a few of the snacks they've got on display. _You hungry, Vic?_

_I'm alright,_ she says, not looking up and instead picking through a few of the sweets laid out. Lisa looks at Steve like he'll commiserate with her, but usually the gang don't cause too much trouble while he or Soda are at work. _My sister_, she says by way of explanation. _Did the car give y'all much trouble?_

_It's an easy fix_, Steve tells her.

_Findin' parts's the hard part, huh?_ she says, and smiles at him. She tilts her head a bit, flirtatious, he thinks, and feels a little like Soda should be standing next to him.

He wants to take a minute to decide how to respond, but can't, says, _Not so hard we can't do it_, and it makes her laugh.

_Anything's possible for y'all, then?_

_We're a buncha greasers, ain't we?_ he says, _We make do_, and she flinches. When he looks at her, her eyes are hard.

_Don't call me that_, she says, voice low, like she doesn't want her sister to hear. _Who's callin' you a greaser?_

He blinks. _Bernal, that's what we are_, he says, a little defensive. _Broke folks on the East side. Socs on the West._

She watches him, suspicious now. _Y'all got rich white kids callin' you greasers, huh?_

He takes a minute to think before he speaks. It doesn't make a lick of difference, makes him feel begrudging instead. _Yeah. Guess so._

_That means somethin' different_, she tells him. Voice no longer as strained, now, but not by much. _In Texas_. _For Mexicans. _

_Yeah._ Can't say much else.

She tilts her head. Her eyes are a little softer, more cautious than angry. She says, _Vicky, you ready?_ and the girl pops up again, a bottle of root beer in hand.

_Will you buy me this?_

_You gotta job, kid?_ she says, tugging on the girl's hair. '_Course I will_. They don't much look alike. The sister—Vicky—has curly hair, closer to brown than the pitch black locks her sister has parted just to the side today. She's taller by at least an inch or two, in that same lanky stage as the youngest Curtis brother. Her skin is lighter, too, and Steve's not sure he'd pin her as Mexican if he didn't already know. Lisa says to him, _How much for the car and root beer?_

_Root beer's on us_, Steve says, and when she looks unimpressed, says, _Soda said he'd cover you, didn't he?_

_There's really a kid named Soda here?_ the sister asks. She leans into Lisa a bit, and she reaches up absentmindedly to pat the girl's cheek.

_Someone talking about me?_ says Soda, coming out of the stock room with a box of goods. He smiles charmingly at the three of them. _Steve finally call you back, Lisa?_ he asks her, like they're friends.

_That he did_, Lisa says, _says you're buyin' my kid sister this bottle of root beer, too_.

Soda laughs. _Sure_, he says, _why not?_

_You don't gotta_, she says, already pulling out her wallet_. How much for the brakes, anyway?_

_Sixty-seven fifty_, Steve tells her, and she grimaces.

_Don't worry about the soda_, Sodapop says, more to Vicky than to Lisa, _it's no problem_. He smiles, differently than when he was flirting with Lisa the day before or when he's charming any other girl, this one more genuine, like something he might aim at Sandy, instead.

Vicky smiles back, caught somewhere between being pleased she has a free drink and acknowledging that Soda's a looker. Steve would put her at maybe twelve, younger than Pony by at least a little bit. Her face still has that real soft look like he does.

_Thank you_, she tells him, and Lisa hands over several bills, crisp twenties. Steve doesn't say anything, but he's sure he makes a real particular face, because Lisa grimaces. He gives her her change and then Soda speaks again.

_Y'all enjoying the summer?_ he asks, and Lisa spares him a glance before looking towards Vicky. The girl shrugs.

_It's alright._

_Done anything fun?_ he says. Lisa looks fond, suddenly, like she can tell he's being polite because he wants to be and not because he has to be. Soda's real good with kids, always has been—has to be, with Ponyboy hanging onto him like he does.

Vicky blinks slowly, like she's thinking, bottle cradled between her hands. _We moved_, she says, a little dry, and Lisa purses her lips. Her eyes are bright.

Soda laughs. _Yeah, your sister mentioned it_. _What grade are you in?_

_I'm in seventh grade this year_, she says, smiling now.

Steve watches Lisa watch her, sees her expression soften, mouth quirked in a smile. She's not a bad looking girl, he thinks. She's real small, sure, but she's got long legs and smooth skin. Looks like the type of girl that might hang around Brumly if she were wearing a leather jacket, maybe, and only because she's got a mean scowl. Tim's outfit didn't usually deal with Mexicans, no doubt since their old lady still spoke English with an accent even after a lifetime in Tulsa. None of her children liked the reminder. More than anything, Steve still thinks she'd look right at home at the Our Lady of Guadalupe Church.

_Are there any fun things to do 'round here?_ Lisa asks. She's looking up at him.

Steve shrugs. _If you got the cash, sure._

She inhales, sighs. _Right. Hey, gimme a pack of Parliaments, will you_?

He fixes her with an unimpressed look. _You eighteen?_

_Oh come off it_, she says, grinning. _What, you are? Don't tell me you don't sell 'em to your buddies who ain't eighteen yet._

_She's got us there_, Soda says, coming around the counter and grabbing a pack for her. _'S not for this lovely lady, is it?_ he says, nodding at Vicky, who immediately looks embarrassed.

_Y'all start young 'round here, huh_, Lisa says, wry.

_Just the boys,_ he concedes, and says, _that'll be thirty-one cents_, and takes the two quarters she hands back.

_I'll get the car for you_, Steve says. They're supposed to bring it out front for customers, but half the time don't bother. Most customers don't mind it. But it might be the last time he drives a Pontiac for a while, and he wants to take advantage of it.

Lisa guesses it, too, says, _She runs real pretty, don't she?_

_You bet_, Soda answers for him, grinning too widely again.

It takes just a few minutes for Steve the car around, and he finds the two sisters waiting for him. They stop speaking when he climbs out of the car, and Lisa nods at it like she wants her sister to climb in already. She does so, and then Steve comes close to hand over the keys.

_Any issues, let us know_, he tells her. _We'll take a look at the brakes for free._

_Y'all really love doin' shit for free here, huh_, she says, and his expression makes her laugh. _Soda mentioned somethin' about drag races? Is that an every week thing?_

_Sure_, Steve says, ignoring how he likes the way she pronounces it "thang". _But girls don't really race up here._

She makes a face. _You think I'm tryna risk my life like that? Figured it'd be good entertainment._

_Your sister like cars?_

_She loves 'em_, she says, then smirks. _Plus, mine's got new brakes. Someone wants to drive her, might help my cred._

Steve blinks at her. _Soda tryna race your car?_

_He might have asked_, she says. _He said you're the better driver, though._

Steve whistles. _Shoot_, he says. _You just met me. You gonna trust me like that?_

_You fixed her up, didn't you? That's trust._

He shakes his head. _Texas is about real hospitality, seems like._

_Don't get it twisted_, she says, _it's just a bit of fun, ain't it?_ and when she smiles at him, a knowing quirk of her mouth, he feels something like butterflies, not that he'll admit it.

* * *

Friday night finds most of the gang down at the backroads of Tulsa, where there was usually a few pairs of locals—Soc or greaser or in between—gunning for a different sort of fight. Steve and Soda decide that they might as well check out a few of the races, and if they're lucky Lisa Bernal will show up with her pristine purple Pontiac and let one of them race.

Evie ain't too big on races, and Sandy's folks aren't too keen on her staying out as late as they usually do during nights like these even if it's the summer, so Steve doesn't put up as much of a fight when Ponyboy makes noise about joining them. Soda invites Two-Bit and Johnny along, too, since Dally's apparently back on with Sylvia for the weekend, and they pile into Steve's Plymouth.

There's a decent crowd of folks down there by the time they arrive, and Steve greets the handful of people he recognizes. He spots Evie's sister and her boyfriend, and she has the good sense to look embarrassed about it, eyes flitting nervously towards Soda.

_You ain't gonna tell Evie, are you?_

_Shoot, kid_, he says, glancing behind him and spotting Two-Bit telling some grandiose story to Johnny and Ponyboy, who both look like they know he's full of it, _That's something you're gonna do anyway, ain't it?_

_I guess_, she says, glum, and then her man tugs her away and they're lost to the crowd.

_Evie's not gonna be too happy about that_, Soda says, next to him, and Steve shrugs.

_Not really my business, is it?_

Soda bumps their shoulders together, says, _Nope_, and they turn back into the crowd and try to push towards the front. Soda calls out to Ponyboy that they're moving, but Two-Bit waves them off, mentioning buying a drink or two.

Steve shakes his head, says, _You think Bernal will show?_

_I think so_, Soda says. _She got real excited when I mentioned the races_.

Steve glances at him. _Can't say I can see that girl getting riled up in a good way,_ he says, and Soda chuckles.

_What, you know her that well already?_ he says._ I'm telling you, she'll show._

_Sure_, Steve says.

Soda says, _I think she's sweet on you_, and he blinks.

_We've had three conversations_, Steve says, slowly, _and all of them about cars._

_Four_, Soda corrects. _C'mon, Stevie. You know what I'm talking about._

When Steve turns to him he sees his friend grinning. His tone's playful but underneath that, a little serious, a little knowing.

_It's in the eyes, man,_ Soda says. _Whatcha think?_

_I'm thinking Evie'd skin me alive if she caught me stepping out on her._

_And if she don't catch you?_

_Lemme win a race first, Curtis_, Steve says, thinking of Lisa's smile and the way she looked up at him. _If she lets me drive her car you might be right._

_I am right_, Soda says, and then, _oh look, there she is_, and waves, grinning big like it wasn't nothing major they were just discussing.

Both of the girls are in jeans and plain tee shirts, no doubt figuring the crowd ain't much for looks, even if a good number of girls still make themselves up for their dates. Despite the heat, Lisa's got her hair down, and Steve finds himself admiring the way the afternoon sun glances off it, midway down her back and smooth-looking. She's got one hand hovering over her sister's waist, and when she catches sight of Soda waving at her she grins real big. Genuine. She looks real pretty like that.

_Fancy meeting you here_, Soda says once they're in earshot, and greets Lisa with a hug like they're old friends. Lisa looks a little surprised at the gesture, and quirks her eyebrows at Steve like he might be able to explain it. Steve has never been able to explain Soda—is usually just along for the ride, and in most cases they end up alright. He shrugs at her, and she rolls her eyes a little, but grins anyway.

_It's good to know you're nice to girls who ain't customers_, Lisa says, dry.

_Most of our customers are regulars_, Soda says, slinging an arm over her shoulder. Vicky lingers close by, eyes huge and absorbing everything that's around her. Steve's pretty sure she'll slip off to get a good look at the cars soon, based off both her clear eagerness to get loose from her sister and Lisa's comments about her liking cars. Soda says, _I'm just tryna make sure you keep coming by to visit me and Steve._

_I think you're just a flirt_, Lisa says, smiling more genuinely, like when she first caught sight of them. Most girls would have reached out to touch Soda back by now, but she's still got a hand snagged in her sister's belt loop, the other hooked on one of her own with an elbow almost—but not quite—keeping Soda at bay. _I'm surprised you ain't gotta girl hangin' off you right now._

_My girl's folks don't want her out late_, Soda says, _they think I'm a no good hood_. Soda says it jokingly, but Steve knows he means it. Lisa looks to Steve, something knowing in her dark eyes, and he nods incrementally. Her gaze swoops back to Soda.

_The races ever get rowdy?_

_All the time_, Steve says, _but only if the race is good._

Lisa hums. _What makes a good race?_

_Nice cars_, Steve says.

_Good drivers_, says Soda, and winks. _Stevie here's the best._

_That so?_ Lisa says. Her mouth curls up, a crooked smile. _I happen to have a nice car._ The three of them grin at each other. She says,_ Hey, Vic, you think I should let 'em drive the car?_

Vicky turns back to them, having been analyzing the crowd with surprisingly shrewd eyes, and narrows them at the three teenagers standing before her, clearly up to trouble.

_You're really a good driver?_ she asks Steve, like the others might have been lying, and he answers yes. She hums, and the resemblance between her and Lisa seems stronger, suddenly. _What do you get if you win?_

_Bragging rights_, Soda says.

_No prize?_

_That's prize enough_, he says, and Steve shrugs.

_Sometimes there's cash. Maybe once or twice a year, towards the end of summer_, he tells the girls, and Soda nods. Vicky seems considering.

_You trust 'em not to crash the car?_

_We can always fix it_, Soda says, and Lisa laughs.

_Free of charge, huh?_ she says, looking up at him and then at Steve. _C'mon, kid. Whadaya say?_

_Only if we can watch from up front_, Vicky says, finally, _I wanna get a good look at the other cars they got out here._

_That we can do_, Lisa says, and then she's pulling away from Soda and pressing her keys into Steve's palm. Her fingers are warm and dry, and they curl over his slightly. She looks into his eyes unwaveringly, head upturned, and tells him, _Good luck._

_Won't need it_, he hears himself say. It's like staring into the night sky. _I'm the best driver out here._

Steve ends up against a '63 Sting Ray. It's a little faster, sure, but the driver's some middle class goon from the West side of town. He's not sure where Two-Bit and the others got to, but Soda and the Bernal sisters find a good spot up front, close enough that they'll be able to see the start and end of the races.

Steve wins three in a row—the Sting Ray, a Mustang, and then a Corvette that crashes badly enough that Steve jumps out to help the driver. He can hear Soda's whooping from all the way down at the finish line, and when he finds them in the crowd he's still keyed up.

_Steve!_ he says, practically jumping onto him from where he was standing with his arm still hooked around Lisa, _congrats, that was killer._

_Thanks, man_, he says, patting his back. He nods at the girls, sees that Two-Bit and the others are lingering a little bit behind them. Ponyboy looks mighty confused, like he can't figure out why Soda might have had his arm wrapped around a pretty girl.

Next to Lisa, Vicky's eyes are bright, and Steve hears her say, _Did you see that Mustang?_, voice high and excited. Two-Bit comes close, Johnny and Ponyboy trailing him, and flings an arm around Steve and Soda's shoulders.

_Nice job, Stevie_, he says. He smells like beer, but he's acting as close to sober as he ever does. _Mighty nice car, too. Who'd you rob?_

_Aw, that's Lisa's car,_ says Soda, slipping from Two-Bit's grip and catching the girls' attention. He tugs Lisa close, and with her comes Vicky, a hand at her elbow. _This is Lisa_, Soda introduces, _she brought her car in last week and decided to let us try wrecking it today._

_Now I know you ain't about to spread that lie_, Lisa says, rolling her eyes and grinning at Steve. He notices suddenly that she's wearing that dark lipstick again, something like a burnt rouge, maybe, and not like he sees many girls wear around Tulsa. It makes her teeth look very, very white, makes something inside him clench at the thought of her mouth. _Howdy, boys_.

Two-Bit starts laying it on thick, complimenting her with a wink that clearly has her surprised from the way her eyes flit from him to Soda and Steve like she needs an explanation.

_Don't go scaring her off_, Steve says, finding the need to defend her even if he knows Two-Bit don't mean nothing by it, _she was nice enough to let us race with the tuffest car one of us has brought to the DX, and I'm fixing to borrow it again next week._

Two-Bit laughs, and Lisa turns to look at him, more amused now. _You gonna ask me first?_

_Let me build up to it_, Steve says, not quite leering, and she bites her lip, trying not to smile.

On their way back to the Curtis' after, Soda lets Two-Bit sit up front, regales the other two with how good a view he got of the races and talks up how smooth of a ride the Pontiac is, as if Steve wasn't the one who did most of the work replacing the brakes.

Two-Bit waits for them to get absorbed, then turns to Steve and says, _So Lisa, huh?_ with a knowing grin. Steve rolls his eyes.

_Yeah, I know._

_Shoot, really?_ Two-Bit says, and cracks up. _Lemme guess, Soda pointed it out?_

_Figured she was just being friendly._

_Oh she's being friendly, alright_, Two-Bit says. _Make sure you use a rubber, kid, else Evie'll figure out you're getting action from someone who ain't her. _

_Knocking up another girl's the least of my worries_, Steve grumbles. _Pretty sure she said she's got a boyfriend down in Texas._

_Texas? Shit, that'll give you a few hours to find a hideaway_, he laughs, and shakes his head, pitching his voice just low enough that they can't hear him in the back. _Only you, Randle. Can't believe a car's the way to that girl's heart. Or, actually—_

_Don't finish it_, Steve warns as they pull up to the Curtis', _I swear I'll—_

_What are the odds of you getting busy in the Pontiac?_ Two-Bit says, and yelps when Steve reaches over and shoves him out of the stalling car.

* * *

Steve spends most of the rest of the weekend trying to figure out how to get in touch with Lisa in a way that doesn't require he be a creep. Sure, her number's listed alongside the rest of her information at the DX, but he'd rather not risk her kid sister answering the phone. Worse, one of her parents might answer, and with the Pontiac gone he doesn't have a sound reason to offer if someone tries to sniff him out.

Lisa does him a solid by coming by while he's at work on Wednesday, early enough in the day that it's not busy but the boss is out at one of the other gas stations he owns. Steve's working in the stockroom, counting merchandize and cursing whoever it was that made a mess of it over the weekend. Soda—and he reminds himself to thank him later—sends her back, and he practically slams his head on one the shelves when he hears her voice, lilting and almost playful, calling his name.

_Shit_, he says, jerking up and rubbing his head. He finds her wide-eyed and trying not to smile, mouth pursed a little bit but without makeup this time around.

_Sorry_, she says, not looking sorry at all, and steps into the stockroom. She lets the door slide mostly shut behind her, and she's giving him a look he thinks he understands completely. _Soda said you were working back here._ _Busy today?_

_No more than usual_, Steve says, finally letting his hand fall back to the side. Soda might just be the best friend in the world. She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, looking flirtatious and young and reminding Steve of Evie so strongly for a split second that he feels guilty. He pushes the feeling away quickly—what she don't know won't hurt her, he figures. The two of them have been going out since the end of winter, and it's been mostly good, and really, none of that has anything to do with him and Bernal.

He says, like he really cares and not like he's trying to figure out how to get her close enough to him that he can touch her like he wants to, _How'd the rest of your weekend go?_

_Great_, she says, drifting close to him. He finds himself doing the same. _Drove around, cleaned, you know. Summer fun_. Her gaze is focused, knowing, wanting. Steve wonders if he looks the same.

_Sure_, he says. She's still a few feet away from him, and she glances around like she's only just realizing where she is.

_How long'd it take for you to make this mess_? she asks, and Steve tries not the bristle, knows she's joking around.

_'S not my mess_, he tells her, setting down the clipboard he was holding on one of the bays. _Pretty sure it was whoever was in on Friday._

_Rough_, she says, smiling now. Her eyes—still dark, like when the storms come up and cover everything in thick blackness—seem to dance. Steve's not one for metaphors, but he can see it, now, why someone might want to write about a broad like that. She bites her lower lip, and Steve can't help himself from immediately tracking the action. Her tongue, pink, swipes over the same spot just a second later.

_How much trouble will you get in,_ she asks, staring at his mouth, too, _if your girl finds out you kissed me?_

_None if she don't find out_, Steve says, and doesn't think about it when he takes one, two, not even three steps to get to her. He has to duck his head to kiss her, knows she's gone up on her toes besides. He's been thinking about that mouth all week, it feels like, and her kissing him now, lips parted on a sigh, is good proof that that it wasn't a wasted daydream. She skims a hand up his waist, fingers skirting over his ribcage, the other reaching up to curl over his chest.

He tugs her close, palm spanning nearly the entirety of her lower back. Lets himself cup her hips, rub his thumbs against the thin fabric of the shorts she's wearing, then moves his hand higher to touch the soft skin of her midriff, her cropped top probably the best part of her outfit today. She lets him use his tongue, pushes into the kiss more firmly when he hitches their hips together, and the hand she had over his heart slides up to grip his jaw.

When she bites his lip he makes a sound against her mouth, and when she does it again he can feel her smile. Somehow—he's not sure how, considering the mess—he gets her against one of the bays, bodies pressed together. It was already hot in the room when he first came in and now it feels almost unbearable. She hooks an arm around his neck, skims her fingernails up his stomach with the other, and he pulls her up so that her thighs bracket his hips. She makes a sound caught between a sigh and a moan at the feel of him, tilting her head back so he can press wet kisses to her neck.

For a second Steve thinks they're about to go all the way in the stockroom, Soda upfront keeping watch, when the sound of several things falling makes enough noise that the two of them jerk apart. Steve takes several feet back, almost immediately missing the warm contact of her body against his. They stare at each other for a long moment, and then Steve slowly turns his head towards the rest of the room to see if maybe they knocked something over.

It looks like the same mess it was when he walked in, and then he hears Soda's voice—friendly, comforting, care-free—through the still-not-completely-closed door, a bright, _Oh, don't worry about it! I'll clean it up in just a second_, clearly pronounced.

_Just a customer_, Steve says. He looks back towards Lisa, watches her chest move as she takes a deep breath. Wonders how screwed he'd have been if the boss had walked in.

_Yeah_, she says, and looks at him, mouth swollen. She smiles, that little quirk of the mouth he can already tell is going to drive him crazy for a while. _What's your weekend look like?_

_I close on Sunday_, he tells her. Watches her. She smiles again,

_See you then_, she says, and breezes out of the stockroom easy as pie.

On Sunday, fifteen minutes to close, she shows up with a milkshake and one of the tiniest outfits he's ever seen. Lisa grins around the straw when she walks in to find Steve by himself, says, _Where's your partner in crime?_

_Went home an hour ago_, Steve says, smirking a little and pretending he hadn't been thinking she was going to stand him up. _Mechanics just packed up._

_Ain't that convenient_, she says, leaning on an elbow. She offers him her drink. _Wanna try? It's chocolate._

_I'm alright_, he says, and she shrugs, still smiling just a bit, mouth a full, friendly pout.

_How's your week been?_ she says. She seems almost genuinely interested.

_The usual_, he says. And then, because she asked about Evie last time, and he feels like he should probably have an idea of what he's up against, says, _Any word on your man coming up to visit you?_

She looks surprised, like she didn't expect him to remember about the boyfriend she apparently has no issue two-timing.

_No_, Lisa says, _he's still not around,_ and when she tilts her head she really _looks_ at him, like how Steve's seen Evie look at him sometimes or how the girls Dallas chases after do. Like how she did on Wednesday, even.

_Yeah?_ he says. Sunday means they close early. He had a date with Evie Friday night and works all week, so he probably ain't seeing her again until the weekend again at the earliest. He thinks he should feel guiltier. He says, like he wants to make conversation and hasn't driven her car recently, _Your brakes still working alright?_

_Think so_, she says, leaning in, elbows on the counter. She's wearing a black tube top, itty bitty skirt like the first day she walked into the DX. Her hair is long and straight like always, none of the bounce in it like Evie likes. Steve figures he's as good as got permission to take a look down her shirt, doesn't look up 'til she says, coquettish, _You wanna take a look at 'em?_

Steve stares at her, a little dumbfounded. Her mouth twists, like she's trying not to smile.

_The brakes_, she says.

_Oh_, Steve says.

_I parked out back_, Lisa says, and Steve can hear the laughter she's trying to hide. _I'll meet you there, while you lock up_. She's still looking at him, like she knows all she needs to know about him, and once he's done locking up the place he finds her leaning against the driver's door, smoking a cigarette, milkshake discarded.

_All done for the night?_ she says, grinning a little when she catches sight of him swaggering towards her, work shirt unbuttoned in the heat already. He decides he likes the way she watches him.

_Yeah._

_The look on your face_, she says after a moment, and bites her lip. Drops her cigarette, puts it out, looking pleased as can be. _Lord, are you a sight for sore eyes. _

_You sure about that?_ he says, and like before doesn't stop to think before he ducks his head to kiss her again, slouching a bit so she doesn't have to go so far up her toes. She's maybe five-feet tall and fits against him far differently than Evie. He didn't appreciate that enough, when he kissed her on Wednesday, is maybe only thinking of it now after the quality time he and Evie spent together earlier that weekend.

Lisa ends up pressed up against her car, and Steve gets a hand on her lower back to better pull her close. She hitches a leg up over his hip, curls her fingers over his ribs, mouth wet and open beneath his. He cradles her jaw with one hand, lets his fingers fan over the nape of her neck, and then grips just so. She makes a noise against his mouth, hips grinding upwards, and he pulls back.

He touches her over her underwear. _How 'bout it?_

_Yeah_, she says and they disentangle long enough for her to tug him into the backseat of her car. She's warm, too warm for all the summer heat, but it don't much matter to Steve.

Afterwards she tugs her tube top back up where he'd pushed it down around her waist, straightens her denim skirt. Steve's pretty sure it's the exact one she was wearing when she first came to the DX, but he can't be too sure. Absently, he wonders if she left any marks, and if he'll need to lie low for a few days to keep Evie from finding out. Wonders if the guilt will hit him sooner or later.

_This what you were after the whole time?_ he asks her, lighting a smoke. He's half out of the car, now, having shrugged back into his shirt, and lets one foot rest on the concrete floor as he watches her smooth her hair. She snorts.

_Ain't you the one who worked on my car? _

_Brakes were shot, sure, _he says_, but you kept coming 'round._

She shrugs. _I don't got much company 'sides Vicky_, she tells him. _Just got that gig over at that diner near the high school, though. I start this week._

_Bored, huh?_

_You look like someone who knows his stuff_, she tells him instead of answering, a smirk almost playing at her mouth. _I was right._

Steve laughs.

She says, _Your girl gonna look for me?_

_You think I'm stupid enough to tell her what went down?_

_Shit, that was you, too_, Lisa says, and laughs at her own joke. _You need a ride home, Stevie? I can give you another._

He snorts this time. _You ain't that funny, _he tells her_. Where d'you live, anyway?_

_Oh, you know_, she says, and tells him, and something cold goes down his spine, like an egg's been cracked at the base of his skull.

_Really?_ he says, and she looks at him funny.

_Yeah_, she says. _Told you, we've been here a coupla weeks now._

_It's nothing_, Steve says, and shakes his head. _You live right near my buddies, is all. I'm real close, too_. He doesn't add that Evie's only a few blocks over, all the gang nearby.

_Huh_, she says, and grins a little. _Tulsa's small, I guess. _

_Sure_, he says, but lets her drive him home anyway.

* * *

the woman is wild,  
a she-cat tamed by the purr of a jaguar  
money's the matter  
if you're in it for love  
you ain't gonna get too far


End file.
